


Recipe for success

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ice Cream, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean decides he wants ice cream, he gets ice cream. Just not the way he'd pictured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recipe for success

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally and utterly wings128's fault. From conception to final edit, I blame her....so thank you hun :D

Sam's adopted a defensive position, shoulders hunched, body curled into a tight little ball. Growling menacingly over his shoulder, he bares his teeth and snarls, "Back off, Dean."

Advancing slowly, wicked glint in his eyes, Dean brandishes his weapon and smirks, "It's no good Sammy, we both know you're gonna give it up."

Sam crouches, drags his precious prize closer to his chest and turns further away from Dean, "No, not a chance, I've been waiting for this for weeks."

Dean tilts his head and searches for a chink in his brother's armour, "You always tell me I should try new things Sammy."

Sam sighs, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out even though he knows Dean can't see his face.

Sam's shoulder's sag and Dean thinks he might be getting somewhere, "Seriously dude it's _just_ frozen yogurt!"

Sam spins, bowl of ice cold awesomeness clutched tightly between his fingers, and shakes his head, "It's _not_ **just** frozen yogurt, it's Tip Top Blueberry! Usually I'd have to tie your ass down and force feed you anything _this_ healthy. I've been eyeing it up in every Gas 'n' Sip for the last 150 miles and _now_ you decide to try something new!"

Dean grins and stalks forward, silver dessert spoon gripped tightly in his hand. Tipping it like a knife, he inches towards Sam, "But _Sammy_ , I wanna try some. Come on man, share and share alike."

Sam steps backwards, puts as much distance between his brother and his bowl of ice cream as he can, "That phrase was invented for single child families Dean. There isn't a younger brother on the planet who hasn't heard that at some point and wanted to bury a fork in the hand that's snaking their fries!"

Memories of all the times he's stolen food from Sammy's plate over the years float across his vision and he has to chew the inside of his cheek, knowing that laughing right now will lose him the battle, probably even the war.

Dean decides it's time to bring out the big guns and angles his head down, touches chin to chest, lets the corners of his mouth droop before looking up at his little brother through his lashes, "Please...."

Sam tries really hard not to let Dean's 'feel sorry for me' face get to him, but he can't remember the last time that look _didn't_ work, "Oh for the love of... _Fine!_ " he reluctantly pushes the bowl towards his big brother, just far enough for Dean to slide his spoon in, not far enough for it to be snatched out of his hands, "Just a taste."

Dean's head snaps up and the shit-eating grin he flashes at Sam is both infuriating and hotter than hell and the younger Winchester finds himself equal parts pissed off and turned on. There are two things Dean enjoys more than any other activity; getting one over on Sam and eating.

Dean's love of anything he can put in his mouth is only rivaled by finding new and improved ways to turn Sam into a shuddering wreck. If he thought about it he could combine the two and permanently fry his brother's wiring.

"Knew you couldn't resist the pout Sammy-boy," Dean slowly slides his spoon into the frozen treat before bringing it to his lips and fluttering his eyelashes at his brother. He's not stupid, he knows how much Sam likes watching him eat. Mainly because Dean consumes food the way he does everything else, with a heightened sense of pleasure telegraphing across his entire body.

Sam watches the tip of his brother's tongue dig a hole in his hard earned prize and has to bite back a moan when he sees Dean's eyes close in pleasure.

Sam's lost count of the amount of times he's almost jumped a skeevy roadside diner table whilst watching Dean eat something as simple as french fries. It's bad enough he covers himself in whatever he's eating; maple syrup at the corners of his mouth, just begging to be licked clean. Crumbs nestling in his five 'o' clock shadow, making Sam's finger's itch to wipe them away. Digit's so slicked with ketchup that Dean has to suck them clean and his brother has to readjust himself in his seat.

In spite of Sam's perpetual annoyance at Dean for thieving a mouthful of every single fucking meal he orders, the noises his brother makes are enough to send him scurrying towards the nearest bathroom. Even the more laid back states don't tend to appreciate two guys going at it over the counter and sometimes it's all Sam can do to slam into a cubicle and take himself in hand before he caves and slips beneath whatever table they're sat at.

The odd mixture of ice cold slickness sliding down Dean's throat coupled with his natural body heat sends shivers of appreciation along his spine. He can't help the groan as he repeatedly curls his tongue against the roof of his mouth, smoothing out the frozen goodness until there's nothing left for him to taste.

He sucks the whole spoon into his mouth, searching for any traces of the ice cream he may have missed, "Jesus Sammy, no wonder you didn't wanna share."

Heat hazes the edges of Sam's vision as Dean's eyes open and focus on the bowl still clutched in his brother's shaking fingers. Dean steps forward and Sam lifts the bowl out of his reach before slowly shaking his head and grinning so lasciviously that Dean suddenly isn't that hungry anymore.

Dean's mouth goes slack as Sam scoops a finger full of ice cream from the bowl and smears it along his lips, his plump kissable lips, "Sammy..."

Sam waits for Dean's brain to catch up before snaking his tongue along the curve of his bottom lip and licking into the corners of his own mouth.

Sam _knows_ that Dean associates his mouth with pleasure, even when it's hurling childish insults or lame assed lines. He sometimes catches Dean staring at his lips and grinning, like he's imagining them sliding against his skin, and it gives Sam a jolt of pure joy, knowing that Dean falls back on memories of the pair of them together when everything else becomes too much for his brain to handle.

He's in no way a smug man but Sam knows how high he can take Dean with the merest flick of his tongue and as he cleans his mouth of all traces of frozen yogurt, he allows the sense memories nestled in the back of his mind to shine from his eyes, "De...drop the spoon."

Dean does so without question. The heat in Sam's gaze is unmistakable and he has to make a concerted effort to breath. Sucking down lung fulls of air as every nerve ending in his body responds to the challenge in Sam's eyes.

Sam's whole demeanour has changed. He's gone from _ticked off_ younger brother to **horny as hell** younger brother and Dean's so attuned to the shifts in Sam's moods that he knows whatever his brother is thinking of doing is probably going to turn him into a gibbering mess.

Sam pulls himself up to his full height, allowing his usually coiled and restrained muscles free reign.

He's so used to the whispers and looks he gets in public when he and Dean introduce themselves to anyone, he automatically hunches his shoulders, lets his hips drop slightly. It forestalls any innate fear from the people they're attempting to help.

The only people who've seen Sam completely un-checked are the monsters they hunt and Dean.

In the silence of their room, behind locked doors and shuttered windows, Sam lets himself go. No control, no restraint, just strength and grace. He knows Dean gets a kick out of cracking his hardened shell and he also knows his brother's the only one who can handle him at full tilt.

Dean watches Sam turn into _his Sam_ and the hairs on his arms stand on end.

This is always Dean's favourite part of the dance, watching his brother fully inhabit his own body. Dean constantly gives Sammy shit about trying to be something he isn't in order to please other people, but he kind of understands. He himself suffers from instant judgement because of the way he looks and acts, but he tries not to let it get to him. His brother's not quite as comfortable in his own skin as Dean and he fervently wishes he'd let himself go more often, because, flowery as the thought is, Sam is a thing of beauty when he lets loose.

Sam sees Dean's eyes glaze over and it thrills him, thrills him to his core, knowing that Dean's body and mind respond to him on instinct no matter the situation.

Placing the bowl on the table, Sam reaches out and curls his fingers round Dean's hips. Settling them in the grooves of his brother's body, letting the denim scratch against his skin, Sam pulls Dean tight against his chest.

Dean finds himself crushed against Sam's body and his rapidly hardening cock twitches in his jeans. When did Sammy get so big? His chest is broad and hard, honed to perfection, and the heat emanating through layers of clothes would be enough to make him gasp if he didn't think Sam would make some comment about him being a breathless teenager.

Sam slides his hands to the front of Dean's jeans, pops the button and twists his brother in his arms. Shoving him backwards, slamming his shoulder blades against the wall, Sam walks his way down Dean's body. 

Dean watches Sam drop to his knees and his cock twitches again, forcing his eyes closed and his breath out in ragged little huffs, "Sammy..."

Sam doesn't bother answering, just lowers Dean zipper far enough that he can slide two fingers inside his trousers. The first contact of flesh on flesh always burns Sam. No matter where they touch it always leaves an invisible scar that brand's them both.

Dean flattens his palms against the wall behind him, using it to hold himself upright, to counter act the shaking of his legs. Digging his nails into the wallpaper, Dean forces his eyes open in order to watch Sam at his feet. The steps are always the same, the back and forth between them, anticipation mingled with sense memory serves to set Dean's skin alight. Underneath Sam's hands he is a masterpiece rendered in flesh.

Sam is the sculptor and Dean is his medium.

Sam doesn't even bother pulling Dean's jeans down, just slips his hand inside his boxers and yanks Dean's cock free. He hears his brother hiss as the cool air in the room whispers across his heated flesh and Sam can't help the smug smirk curving his lips.

Reaching blindly towards the table, not willing to shift his focus from Dean's seeping cock, Sam grabs the bowl full of rapidly melting ice cream. Resting on his knees, spreading them just enough to slot the bowl between them on the floor, Sam digs his fingers into the ice cream before sliding them along the underside of Dean's shaft.

The sudden change in temperature almost burns Dean's skin and he's reminded of sticking his tongue to the freezer door as a kid. The lines between fire and ice are so blurred that he's not sure whether the coolness will leave a physical scar, "Fucking hell Sammy, you trying to kill me?"

Dean's cock is bobbing in Sam's face and he smirks evilly, stares up at him through long lashes before running the tip of his tongue through the ice cream now coating the underside of his brother's cock. Sam's eyes close and he moans loudly as the mingled flavours of blueberry and Dean coalesce on his tongue.

Dean can feel tiny flecks of wallpaper beneath his nails where he keeps flexing his fingers, fighting the urge to slide them into Sam's hair.

Sam uses the spoon still propped against the edge of the bowl to scoop a large chunk of ice cream into his mouth. It's more of a liquid than a solid now but it's still cold enough to make his teeth tingle and he grins and leans forward, opens his mouth and slides Dean's cock against his tongue.

Dean jerks his hips and jumps as Sam's mouth engulfs him. The hot slickness of Sam's throat is counteracted by the still icy yogurt coating his little brother's tongue and he screws his eyes shut in an effort not to beg. His hips slam forward and Sam hums round him, sending shivers along the already raised flesh of his thighs.

Sam swirls his tongue round Dean's cock nestled snug and heavy against the back of his throat. The flavours are exquisite. Dean's distinct musk mixing with the sweetness of the dessert is a whole new taste sensation.

He wonders what Dean would taste like mingled with other flavours as he swipes the tip of his tongue along the edge of Dean's weeping head and realises why salted popcorn works so well.

The tang of Dean's pre-come leaking onto his tongue breaks through the sharpness of the blueberries and he suddenly wants to buy as much ice cream as he can get his hands on just to see how many new recipes he can come up with.

Dean's now thrusting into Sam's mouth, watching his cock disappear between moist ice cream slicked lips and it's almost too much. The coolness makes him instinctively want to pull away but Sam hollows his cheeks and sucks him down and a team of wild horses could drag his ass backwards, "Jesus little brother...you're really...oh god, really enjoying that ice cream aren't you!"

Sam lets Dean's throbbing shaft drop from his lips to take another mouthful of dessert then grins as he licks his brother's cock back into his mouth.

Usually he'd flatten his tongue against his teeth to prevent Dean hollering at him about taking care with his toys but he allows the tip of a canine to scrape the side of his brother's cock and watches as Dean dissolves into the wall. He practically melts into the awful flock wallpaper and Sam's rewarded with a strangled groan and Dean's fingers sliding into his hair.

Dean can't help his very vocal response to Sammy's idea of a descent blow job.

There are days Dean thinks his little brother could quite happily suck his soul straight from the end of his cock and damn if he wouldn't let him.

The ice cream is no longer freezing but it's not quite room temperature and still peppers his skin with goosebumps. Dean claws at Sam's neck, tries to slam himself to the back of his throat but Sam's tongue is preventing him, scraping against his slit until Dean's toes are curling in his boots and he thinks he might have to swear bloody retribution if his baby brother doesn't stop teasing, "B...bitch."

The hitch in Dean's voice coupled with the animal noises he's making give Sam an inflated sense of pride at being able to take this amazing man to pieces with the flick of a tongue. Taking pity, deciding that he'd rather not get a black eye when Dean decides he can't take Sam's gentle exploration any more, Sam reaches up and grips the base of his brother's cock. 

Grip almost too tight, Dean feels Sam squeeze then jerk his wrist.

Sam's hair falls across his face as his head bobs in time with his hand's strokes and electricity crackles across Dean's skin.

Having his cock buried in Sam's throat is like getting heat stroke. He can't focus, pressure pulses at his temples and he feels the world tilt on it's axis as his balls tighten. The base of his spine tingles as Sam repeatedly slides his brother's entire length to the back of his throat and Dean has no idea how he isn't gagging. 

Dean's girth is impressive. Not porn film impressive, but he's hefty enough to stretch Sam's lips wide as he thrusts into his mouth over and over again.

There's no real rhythm to Dean's movements now and Sam slackens off his throat as much as he can to stop himself choking, knowing that his brother's close enough to just blindly fuck his mouth and not care that he might be preventing Sam from breathing.

Sam's nostrils flare and Dean's cock pulses against the roof of his mouth. As the first taste of Dean's release hits the back of his throat, Sam swallows reflexively, not willing to waste a single drop.

Dean's fingers tighten round Sam's neck, hard enough that he'll probably have bruises, but his orgasm slams into him so fast that he can't break his grip. If his eyes were open he's fairly sure he'd be seeing double but he's staring at the backs of his eyelids and praying he doesn't do anything as girly as collapse on top of his brother.

Sam coaxes the last of Dean's orgasm from him before letting his cock fall from his mouth and grinning up at his destroyed brother, "Maybe next time I'll buy two tubs."

Dean's hearing isn't quite back to normal, there's a white noise buzz in the background and it's drowning out Sam's slightly hoarse voice, "Huh?"

Sam watches Dean struggle for breath and stands, guides him away from the wall to the closest chair, laughs and dumps him on his ass, "I said, next time two tubs."

Dean shakes his head and gives Sam a slightly dazed look, "Why?" his little brother's answering smile is smug to the point of obnoxious and he briefly bristles before shaking himself out of 'big brother' mode.

Sam watches Dean fight his natural urges as an older brother and smirks before leaning close enough that his blueberry scented breath ghosts across Dean's lips, "Because then I can cover your _entire_ body in ice cream, not just your cock."

Sam steps back and walks towards the bathroom, ignoring Dean's groan of frustration.

The sound of Dean's head slamming into the table echoes across the room and mingles with Sam's quiet laughter as he shuts the bathroom door, "We need a portable freezer!"


End file.
